We All Fall Short of Glory
by StrawberriesAndTea
Summary: "But you will never see the day when all Hitler promised is true."


A/N: Ciao~ Here's a short lil fic featuring a little dark!Germany and some serious!Italy. My headcannon says Germany would have gone a little insane during WWII. And Italy, I think, isn't stupid and can be serious at times. For real, this pairing is just so, so cute. For real. Anyways, enjoy and review, please, because you'll make my day if you review!

Warnings: WWII stuff, mentions yaoi, nothing explicit. This is Hetalia, people. What did you expect?

Disclaimer: Yeah, right. I own Hetalia. *smirk sarcastically* enjoy!

-We All Fall Short of Glory-

Upon waking that morning, Ludwig detangled himself from the still-sleeping Feliciano and went to go make coffee. It was Saturday, and Ludwig had allowed himself to sleep in until 7:00. Glancing outside, he sighed. It was raining.

Deciding to do some cleaning before Italy got up, which wouldn't be for several more hours, he found a rag and cleaner and began wiping down the kitchen. Soon, he moved on to the downstairs bathroom, then to the master bath. He moved silently even though Italy had been known to sleep through almost anything.

After cleaning the bathroom, Ludwig caught a glimpse in the mirror. He was wearing loose gym shorts and a black tank, with his iron cross necklace hanging out. His hair was still loose and a little messy. He sighed at his appearance and went to the closet to find some suitable clothes.

Flicking through the shirts and pants quickly and quietly, trying to find something comfortable, he heard a soft thump and saw a dark thing fall off the hanger, in the back side of the deep closet. It was too dark to see what it was, so Ludwig grabbed it and brought it to the light. He immediately wished he hadn't.

It was the jacket of his old SS uniform. The dark grey cloth was faded and the buttons were a little tarnished, but the armband and swastika symbol stood out in stark relief. Germany started shaking as memories rushed unbidden.

_-The dawn of World War II, and the Axis were ready to make the world a better place. Expand their glorious empires. Stamp their identities on the world. They were proud and powerful and unstoppable, wrapped up in promises of glory. Germany especially, hypnotized with the rest of his nation into believing that man, who said everything was possible. He fed the people such tales of the future, fables of unlimited strength. They were poison words, the ones that came form that man's mouth; the man that rose to power over all the people of Germany and Ludwig himself. Theirs would be a glorious future, he had said, and blindly, blindly, Germany followed._

_Everything more or less went wrong from there._

_Germany went mad. Half of him obeyed his dictator with a cold efficiency and a smile that grew crueler with each passing day. The other half felt millions of his people die, felt guilt and pain unlike anything he had ever experienced. He internalized the pain and confusion until it became a battle in his head. A part of him even knew he was going insane. But still he clung to the first promises of happiness and power, though the dream grew more and more twisted every moment. The only slightly calming influence was Feliciano, who eventually had to leave. Without Italy, Ludwig had no one to hold him above complete insanity. He stayed in his house and destroyed himself from the inside out; while outside his armies fell apart under Russia's winters, France's resistance, and America's strength. It got to the point where he tore and clawed at the walls, at himself, so split in half he didn't remember who he was._

_The war eventually ended._

_He lost. Lost the war, lost his allies, lost his purpose, lost his dreams. Lost millions of his people._

_It was a while before he came completely to his senses. He felt empty. He sat staring out a window for weeks, until the window got too dirty, sorting things out and trying to come to terms with what he had done._

_It was Feliciano who found him, pale and thin and dusty._

_Years and years passed, and he was happier than he'd ever been, but he still harbored guilt and shame and regret. For his people. For his long-lost dreams of glory and greatness. He would carry it with him forever.-_

Ludwig gave a little chocked whimper, finding the present. He dropped the jacket and without hesitating fled into the rain.

He didn't stop running until he was standing in the pouring rain just inside a park. Only then did he slow down, panting a little, before following the path into the dark trees.

There was a bench underneath the water-logged branches where Ludwig sat. It was dark this far in the park and it was still raining hard enough that he was still getting drenched even underneath the slight cover. Ludwig didn't really care as he sat and tried to forget his memories by staring into space.

He was there about twenty minutes when he distantly heard feet running on the path towards his spot. The person slowed down as he approached Ludwig and sat down delicately beside him. An umbrella was held over his head, though Ludwig was already soaked through, and dimly he could smell the familiar combination of sunshine, oregano, and expensive cologne.

Feliciano had seen the uniform and knew why Ludwig had left. He was silent for a while, showing a side of his personality rarely seen, watching Ludwig out of the corner of his eye to see if he would move. After a few moments Feliciano sighed lightly and abandoned the umbrella, turning in his seat to gently take one of Ludwig's hands in both his own, lightly stroking with his thumbs.

It was a moment more before Ludwig responded, not turning his head, but curling his fingers ever-so-slightly around Italy's smaller hands. He looked down. "Why did you come back?"

"Hm?"

"Why did you come back? After the war. When I was all alone. Why?"

"I love you," Feliciano replied. "And you were alone. You should never be alone. You were tearing yourself apart with guilt. I couldn't let you do that to yourself." When Ludwig didn't respond, Italy took a deep breath and continued. "And because it wasn't your fault."

Ludwig jerked up at that but made no sound. Italy pressed on. "You played a part, yes. But we, as countries, follow the wills of our people. And you were trying to be strong and great."

"Is it wrong," Germany whispered slowly, "to want to still be strong and great?"

Feliciano paused. When he answered, it was also soft, and it sounded like he had thought about this before. "Throughout history," he said, "there have been many great empires: Greece's mom, my grandfather, the Ottomans, Egypt's mom, England. They each, for a time, held the world in their palms. But it came with a price." He took a breath. "They were powerful, but also cruel. They had to be, to get that far. But it hurt them, you know. They paid with their minds, with their hearts. And you know," he paused briefly, "They all fell. Every one of them. Some didn't even survive the fall. Some did, like England, but do you remember how hurt and torn apart and bitter he was? What goes up must come down. Because of that…" Italy glanced away briefly, but returned his honey colored eyes to Ludwig. "Because of that, I'm a little glad we lost. We were foolish, Germany. We thought we could control the world, and that there would be no consequences. In that respect, it is our fault. We were star-struck by dreams of greatness. But what is greatness, if we lose ourselves and our people trying to get it? What is strength, when we gain it by killing, and use it to kill? I don't think it's wrong to want strength. But, Ludwig," Feliciano squeezed his hand. "You are strong. And no one can be as strong as we wanted to be. We can be strong, yes. But you will never see the day when all Hitler promised is true. Not without destroying your country and destroying yourself."

Germany was silent for a long time while the rain pattered around them, before he spoke. "I'll never forgive myself."

"You must." Italy said firmly. "The world has forgiven you. Not many even blamed you in the first place. You'll never heal if you don't forgive."

"But… so many. Millions…"

"We are nations. We have things in our past we aren't proud of, that we'll always regret. I'm not asking you to forget. Just to stop blaming yourself."

Ludwig turned to look at Feliciano, his eyes filled with pain. Italy saw he wasn't ready. Not yet. Italy stood, tugging Germany up as well. "Let's go home, he said, leading Ludwig away.

It was a silent walk home and they dried off quietly and changed. Feliciano tugged Ludwig to bed with a hint of his normal smile. Ludwig, in a rare show of vulnerability, reversed their normal positions and lay half on Italy, burying his face into the smaller man's chest over his heart. He took a deep breath.

Feliciano dropped a quick little kiss onto the blonde hair he loved so much before settling back and stroking Ludwig's hair, smiling a little sadly. "In the end, we all fall short of glory," he whispered. "Be thankful we didn't have so far to fall."

~fin~


End file.
